A/n: I apologise for the lack of updates again this week, I've had a lingering migraine-y headache all week that's really slowed me down typing wise. At least going slow has meant an extra long chapter for this though. :) Enjoy.
The Doctor sighed as he carefully picked up an already sterilised sample beaker and distractedly ran a cloth over it, frowning tiredly at his reflection on the curved, gleaming surface as he did so. He tilted the beaker back in his hands, grimacing slightly as the resulting reflection gave him a glimpse of Seven of Nine's still form on the biobed. She hadn't moved yet, if he didn't already have her detailed bio-readings constantly updating on the console next to him and thus knew her malady wasn't rooted in her physical condition, he would've been overwhelmed with the need to check her again. Even knowing he had done all he could for now, he was finding it very hard to keep his distance, to give her the space he was beginning to doubt would help. He'd always been that way with Seven; she could activate the full range of his emotional subroutines all at once. It hurt that he couldn't reach her at all when she undoubtedly needed someone. The only compromise he'd been able to come to with his two warring factions of thought, the one who wanted to prod and pet her until she recovered from this, and the other which fully advocated the detached 'tough love' approach, was to remain here as a silent, hopefully comforting, presence. So that was why he'd spent the last hour aimlessly toying with whatever object came to hand in his Sickbay, trying to convince her he was busy and unconcerned…
The beaker slid from his hand, forgotten as his concentration got lost in the maze of his worries. A dull clinking sound rang momentarily through the room as the beaker's reinforced plastic kept it intact even as it hit then rolled across the floor. The Doctor didn't move to rescue it right away, having caught Seven's reaction to the noise out of the corner of his eye. She flinched more violently than she should have, almost as if she'd been roused from sleep, but her eyes had been open, vacant and expressionless, since she'd shut down after their last exchange. Maybe he should check her for shock one final time… With another sigh, he moved across the room as unobtrusively as possible. At the moment Seven reminded him of a piece of delicate blown glass, ready to shatter spontaneously if as much as a sound wave disturbed her, and already starting to fracture. As he knelt to recover the beaker from where it had rolled under his diagnostic table, the obnoxious yelp of his comm. badge made him grit his teeth as he tapped it to open the closed line, "The Doctor here."
"Doctor, it's…umm, Ensign Kim here…" If the Doctor had been in a better mood he would've smirked, he could practically see Harry Kim's discomforted, flushed face through the comm. badge and if his medical experience told him anything it was that if a person was more embarrassed that scared when they called a Doctor it probably meant the injury wasn't life threatening. "I kind of had another accident on the holodeck again…" Harry continued after awkwardly clearing his throat.
"More night time paragliding session with Jennifer Delaney, Ensign?" The Doctor asked in dubious amusement.
"No, er, she decided we should try cliff-diving this time…" Harry replied sheepishly before gasping out a sharp grunt of pain, "Jenny thinks she's broken a few bones in her feet and I've definitely dislocated my shoulder…"
The Doctor bit back an irritated sigh, but his efforts didn't really soften the condescending note in his tone, to Harry's ears at least. "You know Ensign, I'm in complete support of Crewman Delaney's attempts to…arouse your hidden daredevil, but you have to remember that the holodeck safety mechanisms will only protect you so much, hence all of your recent visits to me. May I suggest that you add a dash of culture to your next date? I'm perfectly willing to give the two of you access to one of my opera programs."
Harry chuckled weakly, the movement obviously irritating his injury somewhat as his voice caught slightly, "I'll consider it, thanks, but would you mind paying us a house call to our programme right now?"
The Doctor felt a mix of relief and regret flood him as his eyes involuntarily found Seven again. He was of course unwilling to expose her to even Harry's kindly, guileless gaze at the moment but the thought of abandoning her here sat uneasily within him. "Of course, I'll be right there." He assured his crewmate softly, exhaling heavily as Harry muttered a quick, bashful thanks and the comm. line clicked swiftly off. "His new relationship with Crewman Delaney must be going well, he's really been pushing the boundaries for her, this is my third 'holodeck call' for the two of them in the space of a month. Who would've thought it?" He mused lightly, biting his lip when Seven didn't move a muscle. Her characteristic eyebrow didn't even twitch upwards in wry response. "I'm going to have to go, will you be alright here by yourself?" he asked tightly, cautiously approaching her biobed, his hand reaching out to touch her arm before he thought better of it, the limb falling despondently back to his side. "My programme is linked to your monitors; if any of your implants go awry I'll be back here in the time it takes to issue a command to the transporter…"
Seven's chest moved upwards in a laboured sigh, making the Doctor jump somewhat despite his prodding of her. Her dull eyes focused on him momentarily as she exhaled the breath, "You have already repaired me Doctor." She reminded him quietly, "I shouldn't serve as an obstruction to your duties."
"Oh Seven…" The Doctor murmured remorsefully, this time not restraining his urge to touch her, his fingers brushing the chilly skin of her hollowed cheek, "You know I can't…repair what's wrong this time. Only you can decide to do that, and talking it over, unburdening yourself somehow, is the way I advise you to do it." He stepped back sharply as he realised that she'd stiffened again, as frozen as an ice statute, her gaze lazily trailing after the light bouncing off the ceiling above her. He couldn't take this anymore, didn't want to be the one standing uselessly by her side as she continued her self-destruction…
Seven watched him leave out of the corner of her eye, his too hasty, agitated movements as he snatched up his medical bag and stomped leadenly out. Whatever had held her together, perhaps the sheer pressure of his presence had managed to contain her inside herself, deserted her as the hiss of the doors sliding closed cut through the dense air. As she rolled onto her side away from the doorway, the rush of loneliness that flooded her was enough to crack her mental walls and a sob so loud and guttural that it shocked her into flinching managed to escape. Then another, and another… Her ribs felt like the bones were going to split apart, her lungs felt full even as she struggled to breathe. Instinctively, her knees drew up and locked tight against her chest, her quivering arms encircling them with a surprising strength. Soon her face had also curled inwards, and as she squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she'd compacted her body, she felt irrationally safe, grasping at this fragment of control…
As soon as the feeling came over her, a choked, bitter laugh rose up between the sobs. She could see the last time she'd used this tactic in her mind's eye, cowering under the Raven's piloting console, bunching her tiny frame smaller and smaller, more insignificant, less relevant to the encroaching invaders of her settled world. It hadn't worked then; the drones had found her with ruthless efficiency, her terror and grief ignored… Slowly, she forced her stiff body to uncoil like the metal spring it so resembled; retreating to childish impulses would only prolong this. The self-discipline in this action brought back a thread of rational thought, and she found herself dissecting the Doctor's words. Unburden herself? Talk it over? Talking involved explanations she couldn't drag out of her heart, and who exactly was she supposed to talk to? The Doctor had already involved himself enough, as for the Captain; this situation would only give rationale to her well-established belief in her Borg protégé's emotional dysfunction. As for the rest of the crew, some of them undoubtedly were friends, or as close an equivalent she could get to some, but even they, when confronted with her recent decisions, would surely declare her deficient in some way, might even dismiss her as having a defective form of humanity.
No, the only person she'd ever let in at that level was the very person who'd helped to deepen this self-inflicted wound. She swallowed hard. Yes, she'd been deceived her vision of a relationship with him, but she'd coped with that before, hadn't she? What right had she ever had to conjure up such fantasies anyway? No, the furiously beating heart of this agony was that she'd lost the sole person she might've confided in…
Chakotay's fumbling fingers managed to dial in the access code to his quarters on the third attempt, but as he started into the darkened room which should have been comforting in its familiarity, his legs suddenly felt even heavier and he had to blindly grasp at the threshold to be able to stumble inside. "Computer, light…" He started to order just as his eyes fell on the room's current light source, a slim candle which cast a ghostly gleam over the table still laid for a dinner for two. His jaw clenched involuntarily, "Belay that." He forced out. Seeing the innocent romance lovingly weaved into these surroundings was the last thing he needed right now. What did he need? He glanced self-consciously down at the sleeping pills cupped loosely in his hand, already beginning to melt in his damp palm. There was a definite appeal to gulping them down, a quick fix oblivion style. The guilt, the fear and grief, it would be hidden away in a drugged smog for a couple of hours at least. Still though, he made no move to take the escape, feeling frozen. The pinpoint red standby light on his replicator suddenly brought an aching thirst to his throat, the machine's best efforts to approximate a scotch whiskey, or maybe the near tasteless potency of vodka, would probably do the trick just as well. Might even give him that deceptive floating sensation, the closest to freedom and pleasure he could feel right now.
He promptly threw the pills to the carpet, purposely crushing them underfoot as he turned his back on the replicator. He couldn't do that, not now. It would be disrespectful to Seven, let alone to the crew he'd promised his commitment to. That dark cycle in his life had ended, no matter how much he felt that familiar pain creeping back. Intensity, that was his problem, everything he felt was always so acute. Contrary, his father had declared him, unable to settle, to find peace. It had started long ago, before little Annika Hansen had been violated by the Borg, when as a hot-headed, self-righteous teenager he'd rejected everything his family had lovingly instilled in him and had run off to Starfleet in pursuit of glory as well as purpose. He hadn't even enjoyed it that much in the end, the Academy. It served him right that he'd chafed there as much as at home. Then, just as he'd thought he'd accepted his past decisions, his roots had been mercilessly burned by the Cardassians, his family dead. Most of his crewmates believed he'd joined the Maquis' crusade immediately, before the ash had even settled on his father's grave, but the story wasn't as honourable as that. In reality he'd escaped to the bottom of several bottles, leaving Starfleet but hiding in a bar or a dark hotel room rather than in the Badlands with the Maquis. It had been like that for weeks, trying to dull the blow, induce apathy. It had almost worked too, his detachment had been toxic and people had avoided him like the plague. It had taken his first love, Svetlana, and her story of revenge against the invaders who had killed her husband and young children, to awaken that rage as powerful and all consuming as his old passion for her. That had crashed and burned of course, he didn't love often but when he did it was a flame that flared fiercely until it sputtered out. He'd often wondered why that was, why his relationships seemed to combust spectacularly. He'd always thought he just chose the wrong women, Seska being a case in point, but analysing his recent behaviour he wondered whether he sabotaged his relationships, consciously or not. He had an addictive streak, and love was as much a drug for him as alcohol had once been. Maybe he was pushing it away, only in moderation, never too close… Was he that irredeemably jaded? If so, then Seven, with her purity of heart, most certainly deserved better…
Chakotay felt the grittiness of sleep dried tears in his eyes as the beep of his comm. badge finally reached his dulled ears. He stretched out his long legs as the singeing pain of cramp gripped his muscles. Blinking blearily as he struggled to regain focus, he realised he'd defied his own decision and fallen into an exhausted sleep on his couch, his tall frame far too long for the dumpy piece of furniture. One glance at the wall clock's glowing digits told him he'd been out for over an hour, and that was without the Doctor's helpful drugs. He remembered what had woken him as his comm. badge, barely clinging on to his dishevelled dress shirt, gave another soulful beep. "Will you come to Sickbay?"
Chakotay's heart managed to thud violently even as it twisted as he recognised the voice. Seven. How could she possibly be calling him right now? Was he dreaming? Quickly, he pinched the back of his hand, hard, inhaling sharply when the expected instant of pain came. Real then. She sounded normal, or perhaps 'steady' would've been a better description. It was eerie, considering what he'd witnessed in Sickbay…. "Com…Commander?" There it was, the hitch in her clear voice made his hands clench guiltily and he realised he'd been ignoring her. She, taking the first step and so being much braver than he, was being met with silence.
He slammed his hand against the comm. badge so hard that he was sure Seven must've heard the impact through the line. "I'll…I'll be right there." He breathed, forcing down the lump in his throat when her only reply was the comm. line clicking off a few seconds later. Hurriedly, he shoved his uncooperative body upright, a nervous shiver enough to make him pause to shrug on his discarded uniform jacket over his casual clothes as he ran out.
Seven's arms nearly buckled under her in her haste to sit up as she heard the doors begin to open. She hadn't actually expected him to come. Or perhaps had hoped he wouldn't come, she mentally conceded as her heart sprang into her throat, bringing nausea along with it. He stepped inside just as she twisted around to look him full in the face. The jacket thrown over the thin shirt, the short hair still succeeding in being dishevelled, he looked as disordered as she did, but that wasn't what caught her attention. In a previous era of their relationship, as reluctant crewmates, she'd found his face hard to read; a carefully maintained reserve which she couldn't help but respect, since she always placed a more extreme form of that same mask over her own face. Now though, the transparency, the vividness, of the torture embedded in his absorbing eyes hit her like a kick in the gut, just as it had when she had first woken, a reminder of everything she couldn't face. She couldn't help but gasp slightly and was dimly aware of him doing the same thing as her heart started to reach out of her chest towards him. Self-hatred and anger made her stiffen in shock as she realised that she'd missed him even more than she'd suspected. Irrational.
Chakotay froze as he felt her studying him, sensing her indecision and half expecting her to send him right back out of here. He couldn't stop himself from staring at her, their magnetism seemed to have hiked up even further under this strain, their gazes were locked. She looked so…small, so frail, pushing herself further back on the biobed, away from him, until her legs were hanging far off the floor. Her eyes had dimmed to grey, from what he could see of them behind the limp hair that hung in front of her face. She looked as if she'd shrunk in a matter of hours; her previously flatting outfit now seemed to hang off her slender frame as she curled in on herself. "Seven…" He tried to begin, then realised he had no idea what to say, even as his heart burst with sentiment. When she remained silent, just continuing to stare at him. His eyes skittishly scanned the room and he discovered they were utterly alone. "Where's the Doctor?" he found himself asking, gesturing jerkily around the empty room as an uneasy sound, somewhere near a laugh, left his throat. "Did you deactivate him again?"
Seven's colourless eyes suddenly darkened to agate, it was as if somehow had cast a black shadow over her sky blue irises. "He had other duties to conduct tonight." She informed him stiffly, "I've realised he doesn't deserve oblivion any more than the rest of the crew." Chakotay heard the hurt rebuke in this and was silenced, reduced to begging her for understanding with his eyes. Seven, however, seemed introverted, her whole body quivering as her chin jerked up. "He…the Doctor…says that the Collective, they've robbed me of the ability to love…" Her head had rolled downwards as she admitted this, but Chakotay saw the sparkle of streaming tears burning down her ghostly face as she snapped her gaze uncompromisingly to his, "Is he right? Is that true?" she choked out pleadingly, utterly lost.
Chakotay's mouth opened, flinching as her words hit him like a brutal slap? Had the Doctor of all people told her that? No, no, she couldn't take that lesson from all this…
Seven seemed to take his split second of dumbfounded silence as an affirmative. "Of course it is! I am weak…defective…" She forced out through crushing tears, "Why would any human want an emotional failsafe for a moment, rather than the weeks I let it stay? No one else would need a hologram substitute for companionship…" An angry, bitter laugh broke through the sobs as her wild gaze met his again, though it was soon taken over by weeping once more, "I am weak enough to have to come back to the one who…took pity on me, because I do not have anyone else…"
Her body folded in on itself and as Chakotay heard her breathing become even more fragmented, he realised now she'd been hyperventilating since he'd entered, he blinked back his own tears and went to her. "Seven, you're having a panic attack." He told her firmly, deciding to break the barriers between them to stand protectively over her, his hand splaying onto her straining back. "Just...just breathe for me, please. Don't think of anything, just concentrate on breathing." As he felt her spine poking into his palm, he was vaguely reminded of a childhood incident when he's accidently knocked a fledgling out of its nest and had cradled the fragile, wounded creature in his hands as it struggled.
A panic attack? Seven considered weakly as pins and needles travelled up her arms and one side of her face was quickly going numb, yes that's probably what it was. Still, the oxygen just refused to enter her constricted lungs. Her gaze was just high enough to see Chakotay's frame start to shudder as his hand began to run large, freeing circles into her back. "The Doctor's wrong Seven." He stated with harsh conviction, "The Borg might have tried to take your humanity, but they've never succeeded Seven, not even when you were put under the stress of being ripped away from them. Think of how much you've changed this crew for the better, helped us. Can you really say that you don't love Icheb, the other Borg children, Naomi and the rest of your friends?" He continued softly, sighing as he felt her breathing begin to steady, her eyes begin to focus as her body edged away from unconsciousness. He pulled her cybernetic hand from her knee, seeing that the strengthened nails had dug in so deeply that she'd drawn blood, and held it to anchor him as he felt his own emotions begin to pour out. "You'll find someone who loves you as deeply and purely as you're deserve, someone good and strong and…selfless. He'll be so much better, more worthy of you than I ever could be…"
He felt her shiver and inadvertently glanced down at her again, he'd been keeping his gaze respectfully over her bowed golden head, just in time to see what he thought was hurt flicker through her glazed eyes at his last words. He gulped painfully, he was imagining things he wanted to see, she couldn't possibly still want… He began to unravel his arms from her, through if he could have he would have hugged her properly, clung to her in their suffering. Seven surprised him by seizing his elbows in an iron grip, refusing to let him step back. Slowly, her head fell forward until it was almost resting on his chest. "Explain." She said hoarsely.
"You'd…you'd let me?" Chakotay asked thickly.
Seven gave a tiny nod as she sighed heavily, a shard of her stoic dignity returning. "You wouldn't be here if you didn't want to."
Chakotay sighed, again caught off guard by her insightfulness. "Thank you." He whispered as he surprised her by kneeling so that they were finally at the same eye-level. "I never pitied you Seven, even if you don't believe anything else I say, please believe that." After that resolute start, he found his resolve weakening, but one look at her told him he had to confess it all. "It started just like I told you before; the Captain was worrying over your holodeck use. I did try to dissuade her, but after she'd laid out all of her fears for you, I'll admit I became concerned too. That was when…" He gulped hard, "…when I agreed to check what you were doing." He gave Seven a desperate look as he saw her flinch, "I intended to lie to her, or just glance in, but…but when I saw that baby shower, so like the one we'd just thrown, I wanted to understand why you didn't feel you could be so free with us, if I could help you…" He had to guiltily lower his gaze as he forced out the first truly sensitive admission, "And I saw my hologram. I was surprised, curious and flattered…" Seven blushed a little under her drying tears but he made himself ignore her. "So, so I kept watching. I saw up to the end of the first date and then I knew I'd gone too far. God Seven, if I'd known you were in danger…" He trailed off, pushing himself back on subject. "I kept asking myself why I kept watching, when I knew it was wrong, but I slowly came to know when I realised that I was…missing you." He took a deep breath and let his hands lie lightly over hers for a moment, "I was selfish Seven, I put my need to explore my feelings for you above keeping your trust." He murmured, dropping her hands again, "As the two of us really grew closer, as I wanted, I felt trapped by what I'd done. I was falling in love with you and the depth of my betrayal became even more obvious. I couldn't handle it, I was selfish again and hurt you by telling you all this because I wanted you…to forgive me." He closed his eyes as she remained silent, praying for strength as he stood up to leave her. "It's okay Seven, you don't…
A weak sob escaped and as he moved away she buried her face in her hands. "Chakotay, I…" She started tightly before her face began to crumple, "This is just too complex and I'm so…so tired…" She exclaimed brokenly.
Chakotay moved forward again to give her hands one last squeeze, a final loving gesture. "I know. I'll leave you to…"
Her hands moved from his fearfully to grasp his wrists. "Don't go." She whispered, releasing him quickly as she registered his shock and pressing a hand to her face which couldn't quite suppress the sound of a powerful sob. "I…I don't want to be alone anymore…"
Chakotay blinked, struggling to see her through the tears building in his eyes as he tried to give her a reassuring smile. "That makes two of us." He admitted softly.
A/n: PLEASE REVIEW! :D